


strange way to tell you that i know we belong

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Feeding, Human Furniture, Humiliation, Kneeling, Leashes, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Schmoop, Sex Shop, light exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: They buy the collar in a store instead of on the internet like civilized humans, so Foggy has to avoid making eye contact with anyone in this place that has XXX in its name twice, staring at a big display of collars and feeling about halfway between embarrassed and turned on. Matt’s at his side, a warm hand resting low on Foggy’s back; it feels proprietary, which eases some of Foggy’s nerves—he’s here for Matt. Nothing else really matters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, I was just messing around with the intention to write something so filthy that I wouldn't even end up posting it but possibly would save it for myself for the long winter nights
> 
> and then I blacked out briefly 
> 
> and when I woke up, suddenly there was an engagement and lots of swoony romance and only like two paragraphs of actual sex
> 
> ridiculous

They buy the collar in a store instead of on the internet like civilized humans, so Foggy has to avoid making eye contact with anyone in this place that has XXX in its name twice, staring at a big display of collars and feeling about halfway between embarrassed and turned on. Matt’s at his side, a warm hand resting low on Foggy’s back; it feels proprietary, which eases some of Foggy’s nerves—he’s here for Matt. Nothing else really matters.

“What color do you want?” Foggy asks, reaching up to brush his fingers over smooth leather. “Also, I’m vetoing anything with spikes, that just seems like an accident waiting to happen.”

“You pick the color,” Matt says. He’s still using that subtle dominant voice that he was using when he told Foggy what they were doing today. It comes out occasionally when it shouldn’t—they’ve had to have a few talks about drawing appropriate lines, because as much as Foggy would like for Matt to order him around at the office occasionally, it doesn’t really paint a good picture for the public.

Right now, though, seems like an appropriate time.

“Black, I think,” Foggy says. “Classic. Slimming.”

Matt’s snort of laughter is inelegant and charming. Foggy glances over to see him smiling.

“Black it is,” he says. “Pick a few for me to feel.”

Foggy does so quickly, picks different textures, different materials, and hands them to Matt one by one until he makes a pleased noise and says, “This one,” holding up a slim leather collar with one ring.

“You sure?” Foggy asks.

“I’m sure,” Matt says. “Help me get to the front desk without knocking over a display of glass dildos or something.”

“I would _love_ to see that,” Foggy says, but he dutifully leads Matt to the front desk, where a cute girl with purple hair smiles brightly at them.

“Did you find everything you need?” she asks.

“We did, thanks,” Matt says, dimpling at her and holding up the collar. “One question—can he try it on first?”

Foggy makes a surprised noise.

“If he wants to, that is,” Matt says, turning towards Foggy, his face saying something along the lines of _it’s up to you but I’ll make it worth your while,_ which has always been the argument to beat.

“Absolutely!” the girl chirps, not phased at all. “We don’t like taking returns—for obvious reasons—so that’s probably for the best.”

Foggy glances behind him to see that there’s only one other person in the store right now and he seems to be engrossed in the DVD section.

“I’m rolling my eyes,” he says, fondly, nudging Matt with his shoulder. “Put it on me.”

Matt’s fingers fumble to open the collar, but he might be faking it—either way, Foggy’s standing in front of him and curling his toes, feeling like his skin is buzzing. Matt’s fingers find his shoulder, slide up to his neck, and he puts the collar on carefully, pulling it tight enough to make sure it fits while Foggy tries to keep his breathing calm.

Matt smiles at him.

“It’s perfect,” he says, slipping the tip of a finger underneath it before he takes it off and puts it on the counter. “We’ll take it.”

Outside, the collar hidden in a discreet paper bag, Foggy loops his arm through Matt’s as they walk, says, “You exhibitionist.”

“If we didn’t have a reputation to maintain,” Matt says, voice pleasant and even, like he’s talking about the weather, “I’d make you wear it home.”

Foggy lets out a soft breath.

“Walk faster,” he says.

*

Matt makes them stop and get takeout from his favorite Mediterranean place for dinner, and on the stairs to his apartment, he says, “I want you to undress and kneel on the coffee table, okay?”

“Okay,” Foggy echoes, then remembers something, adding, “Oh, shit, I have to call my mom back first. She keeps leaving me threatening voicemails reminding me that she’s going to die someday.”

Matt laughs.

“That’s fine,” he says, turning to kiss Foggy’s cheek as they stop at the door. “I kind of wanted to wash the dishes from last night, anyway.”

Inside, Foggy goes to sit on a windowsill and call his mom, watching Matt roll up his sleeves and do the dishes while he tells her how they’ve been and about their latest case and then listens to a story about her sister’s new baby. By the time he gets off the phone, Matt’s finished, sitting on an armchair with a glass of wine in one hand and the collar in the other.

“You want to get into this before we eat?” Foggy asks, leaving his phone on the windowsill and starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Mmm hmm,” Matt says, smirking. He apparently has a plan.

Foggy steps closer to Matt before he keeps taking his clothes off, standing a foot in front of him so Matt could touch if he wanted—normally, he just listens. He described it to Foggy once, the sound composition of fabric sliding on his skin and hitting the floor.

He stays quiet and lets Matt listen until he’s pulling off his socks.

“Coffee table,” Matt says, voice soft and firm.

He stands and follows as Foggy climbs up onto the table, settling down on his knees, sitting back on his feet. There’s a minute of long, purposeful silence while Matt’s probably listening to his body and then Matt runs fingers through his hair, leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” Foggy says, gazing up at him, smiling when Matt traces fingers down his cheek.

“I know you do,” Matt says, touching fingers to Foggy’s chin to tilt his head back and kissing him softly on the mouth before letting go of him entirely. “I can _feel_ it whenever you’re in the room, you know. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

“I’ve never been subtle,” Foggy says.

“No, you haven’t,” Matt says, laughing. “Sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

It took them a long time to get together and a full year of dating before Matt could tell Foggy that he loved him back (Foggy said it, like, five days in and basically showed his whole hand), another few months before he had Foggy crawling on the floor and begging for him. They’re here now, though.

“It’s okay,” Foggy says. “I think you’re more than making up for it.”

“I’m trying,” Matt says, nodding. “I just wanted you to know that—as hot as you wearing a collar for me is, this is also—a _gesture_. I want you—I _need_ you to know that it really means something.”

“I know, Matty,” Foggy says. Normally, when Foggy’s naked and kneeling, Matt’s not being this _earnest_. It’s a weird juxtaposition of two things that Foggy likes a whole lot.

“It means that you’re mine,” Matt continues, firmly, like he’s been rehearsing it. “And that _I’m_ yours—and I want that forever.”

“You sound like you should have a ring in your hand,” Foggy says.

“Yeah,” Matt says, smiling at him. “I do, don’t I?”

“. . .Matt?” Foggy asks, when Matt doesn’t say anything else, just gets this soft determined look on his face.

“I wasn’t planning this,” he says, shaking his head. “I promise, I had no intention of proposing to you like _this_ —it just hit me right now because you're just so—”

“Yes,” Foggy says, abruptly.

“Yes?” Matt asks.

“If you’re asking,” Foggy says, laughing and shifting forward on his knees to curl his fingers around Matt’s arm. “ _Yes_.”

Matt’s grin is the most beautiful thing that Foggy’s ever seen, for the second that it flashes on his face before he’s cupping Foggy’s face in his hands and kissing him intently. Foggy pushes up into it, puts his other hand on Matt’s arm to steady himself, table hard under his knees. He mumbles, between kisses, “Matt, I want you to put the collar on me.”

Matt takes a moment to kiss Foggy’s cheeks and forehead before he lets go of him.

“Put your hands behind your back, sweetheart,” he says, flushed pink and happy. Foggy obeys immediately, sitting up straighter, wondering how distracting his heartbeat is to Matt right now.

Matt wraps fingers around Foggy’s neck first, just circling gently, before he replaces it with the collar. He makes Foggy breathe for him to make sure it’s not too tight then loops his finger in the ring at the front, tugging gently so Foggy falls forward into his chest, having to concentrate to keep his hands behind his back.

Matt wraps his arms around him, presses a lingering kiss to Foggy’s temple.

“You like it, don’t you?” he asks.

“I love it,” Foggy says.

He feels like his heart is too full, like this might not be real, like he’s never been this hard in his _life_. Actually, it’s possible that he’s been this hard before, but he’s definitely never had a boner that was this _significant._

Matt lets go of him slowly so Foggy has time to center himself and not topple off the edge of the coffee table. His fingers trace the collar on Foggy’s throat, smile getting significantly cockier.

“I thought maybe we should just stop and have dinner like normal people who just got engaged,” he says, tapping his fingers on the collar, “but all I can think about is buying you a leash.”

“I—wouldn’t say no that,” Foggy admits, making a face that Matt can’t see because sometimes he still feels some residual shame.

“Good to know,” Matt says, warmly, hooking two fingers into the ring again and pulling until Foggy follows the gesture, climbing off the table on his hands and knees. Matt leads him to the kitchen table, leans down to kiss the top of his head before he says, “Get on your knees by my chair.”

Foggy thinks about crawling under the table and sucking Matt off while he eats, mouth watering when Matt sits down and drops a hand to Foggy’s head.

“Can you stay quiet?” he asks. “I’ll let you be as loud as you want later.”

Foggy just nods his head, shifting Matt’s hand. He’s never been a fan of silence, but Matt likes making him be quiet for long stretches of time just to see if he’ll do it—and he always rewards Foggy by making him scream afterward because he’s a gentleman.

“Good boy,” Matt hums.

Matt eats silently, passes bites of bread and olives and figs, dips his fingers into his wine and presses them into Foggy’s mouth. It feels kind of decadent and cheesy but it has Foggy aching to touch himself, has to keep his hands laced together behind his back to stop himself from doing it.

He can’t stop himself, though, from resting his head on Matt’s knee and saying, softly, “We’re getting _married_.”

Matt grins down at him.

“Hush,” he says, but Foggy can tell he doesn’t really mean it.

*

Later, Matt makes him crawl to their bedroom and bend over the side of the mattress, fucks him hard and sweet, calls him _baby_ and _sweetheart_ and _slut_ and all the things that make Foggy shiver and clench around him. He squeezes Foggy’s throat, tugs on the collar—bites at it so his teeth graze Foggy’s skin.

After he comes inside of Foggy, he flips him over and takes Foggy’s dick in his mouth, swallowing when he comes with a desperate, strangled noise.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Foggy gasps, turning over onto his stomach again when he feels Matt’s come leaking out of him, crawling up to sprawl out in the middle of the mattress and yawn into a pillow.

“Yeah,” Matt agrees, following Foggy’s lead and collapsing half on top of him, turning his face to breathe in against Foggy’s hair. They lie contently for a few minutes, feeling each other breath, until Matt whispers, “Hey.”

“Hey what?” Foggy whispers back.

“We’re getting married,” Matt says. Foggy grins into the pillow.

“Yeah,” he says, happily. “We are.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no, YOU'RE writing domestic humiliation fic to procrastinate writing your big bang fic 
> 
> this is, like, straight up porn, so

For all that this is about Matt taking control of him—Matt taking control in general—Foggy normally decides when they’re going to do a scene. Sometimes, it just happens organically: a hug that lasts too long, Matt smirking just the right way, brushing against each other when they’re trying to make dinner together in Matt’s kitchen.

(That led to Foggy bent over the oven before they eat, cookies baking inside so the door’s hot against his stomach while Matt fucks him slow and long. Matt also fed him still-warm cookies in bed after that, so overall, a really good day.)

Other times, Foggy will tell Matt beforehand or ask him if he wants anything, and they’ll talk it out before they do anything. Foggy doesn’t have much that he won’t let Matt do to him, but they set limits regardless, for both of them. It’s what makes this work so well, Foggy’s convinced of it, pushing aside Matt’s tendency to shove his feelings down until they explode and Foggy’s tendency to joke his way through difficult situations in order to more effectively get off doing weird shit to each other.

This time, though, Matt’s the one who passes Foggy in the office and leans in to brush his lips against his cheek, murmurs, “I want you to go home early and wait on your knees for me by the door.”

“Are you taking the last meeting on your own?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah, I can handle it,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to Foggy’s temple. “Are you okay with me using you? I don’t know how satisfying it’s gonna be for you, but I want to try some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Not talking to you,” Matt says, contemplatively. “Sort of—objectifying you? I want to try it without you knowing what’s going to happen, if that’s okay. We can stop if you don’t like it.”

“That sounds so sweet,” Foggy says, laughing. “I’m okay with it. I’ve got to finish some paperwork, but I’ll leave after that.”

“Put on the collar, too,” Matt says, “and the leash.”

“Wil do,” Foggy says, brightly.

*

Foggy strips out of his clothes as soon as he gets home, putting them in the laundry hamper. He cleans up for awhile, puts clean clothes away and straightens everything like Matt likes it, before kneeling on the floor beside the front door and putting on the collar and leash.

He’s there about fifteen minutes before Matt comes in. Before Foggy can say anything, because his first instinct is to say something, Matt’s opening his belt and unzipping his fly. His dick’s still soft when he presses into Foggy’s mouth and Foggy laves his tongue around it enthusiastically, hollowing his cheeks around him to feel him get hard.

He makes soft gagging noises when Matt fucks his face slowly, smacking Foggy’s hand away when he reaches up to try to wrap it around the base of Matt’s dick but doesn’t say a word, even when he’s pushing just far enough into Foggy’s throat to come down it with shuddering jerks of his hips. Foggy gets light-headed when Matt keeps a hand on the back of his head to keep him so his lips are stretched obscenely low on his dick, Matt’s balls brushing his chin. He pulls out soon, though, wiping his dick on Foggy’s hair and leaving Foggy to pitch forward onto his hands and gasp.

“Fuck,” he breathes, but Matt ignores him, walking into the bedroom. When he comes back out, he’s out of his work clothes, wearing sweatpants and one of Foggy’s t-shirts. It’s completely ridiculous that Matt can make looking cozy so _hot_ , but Foggy’s had some nice moments with his face pressed up against soft jogging pants with Matt’s erection hot underneath the fabric.

He barely grazes fingers over Foggy’s hair as he passes, says, softly, “Light.”

“Green,” Foggy whispers, immediately, looking up to see Matt’s lips turn up in the slightest smile, grinning back at him even though Matt can’t see him.

Matt turns soft music on, and Foggy sits up again, sitting back on his heels to watch Matt make dinner, taking his time. Foggy’s back aches but he barely notices, too busy anticipating what Matt’s going to do next.

As Matt walks by with his bowl, he reaches down to pick up the leash without acknowledging Foggy, pulling Foggy along with him so Foggy walks on his hands and knees behind him.

He gasps out a moan when Matt positions him on his hands and knees, clinically, dispassionate, in front of the couch before sitting and propping his feet up on Foggy’s back. Foggy’s never thought about this before but it makes him feel hot and embarrassed—about 90% sure that it’s in the good way, where it turns both of them on and makes Matt so tender and sweet after it’s over.

His dick curves up towards his stomach, bobbing when he shifts underneath Matt’s heels, listening to Matt eat.

When he’s done, Matt sits up and presses the sole of his foot down on Foggy’s back until Foggy’s lies flat on the ground underneath him before he stands up and takes his bowl into the kitchen. Foggy rests his forehead on the ground, stays there while Matt washes the dishes and then goes to take a long shower.

He thinks about touching himself without permission, but he knows that Matt will be able to tell, somehow, so he just rocks down against the floor and thinks about Matt _using_ him instead.

When Matt comes back, he leans down next to Foggy and runs a warm hand up and down his back before using it to pin Foggy down against the floor.

“I was going to fill your ass up with a vibrator and leave you down here until tomorrow morning,” Matt says, voice dark, “but you did so well that I think you deserve to be in my bed tonight.”

Sometimes, Matt makes Foggy _earn_ it.

Matt wraps Foggy’s leash around his hand and tugs until Foggy gets the picture and turns over, lifts his ass up when Matt grabs him by the hips.

“Can I—” Foggy starts, biting his lip around a whimper when Matt spanks him.

“If you still want it,” he says, “Shut your mouth.”

Foggy lets out a shuddering breath and stays quiet except for involuntary noises while Matt pushes lube inside of him with three fingers and fucks him hard with them. He wants to shout and beg and say Matt’s name, but he bites down on his arm instead, muffling the noises until Matt reaches around to circle his fingers around Foggy’s dick so Foggy yells, “Matty, Matt, _please_ ,” and comes on the floor.

Matt laughs softly, works Foggy through it before he pulls his fingers out and wipes them off on Foggy’s back.

“Sorry,” Foggy says, breathlessly, sitting up when Matt calls him _baby_ and takes off the collar.

“Don’t be,” Matt says, cupping his face to press a soft kiss to his forehead, grinning fondly at him. “You know I like making you lose control.”

“ _I_ don’t like losing,” Foggy says, smiling back.

“You seemed to like it just fine tonight,” Matt says, ruffling Foggy’s hair. “Clean your mess up and come to bed. I think I’ll make you come a few more times before I let you sleep.”

Foggy sits down heavily, leaning back against the couch and watching Matt walk away, shooting a fond look over his shoulder before he disappears into the bedroom.

Foggy’s really excited to marry him. He wants to let Matt know that, but he’s probably going to keep Foggy’s mouth pretty busy for the rest of the night. Maybe in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not saying there will be more but this might end up being like my other long fics where it's just like fifteen pwps loosely strung together with twine
> 
> also [follow me on tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com)for more of these idiots


End file.
